


Hoist the Black Sales and Give No Quarter

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Shopping with the Captain [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Black Friday, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Shopping, kids aren't always cute people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Killian, Emma, and their three children end up - somewhat accidentally - at WalMart during the Black Friday insanity. Chaos and hilarity ensue.





	Hoist the Black Sales and Give No Quarter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HookedForLife415](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HookedForLife415/gifts).



> * HookedForLife415 gave me the prompt for Killian shopping on Black Friday. She also gave me the season 2 quote that I included in this story. So this is for you! Happy Thanksgiving!  
> * I had to come up with a way to get Emma and Killian to the store during the Black Friday sales because they just don't seem like the type of people to go Black Friday shopping. Hence, the stuff with the shoes. I have actually had to buy shoes myself when my kids have forgotten them, once on a vacation to the beach. The Sunday best combined with Spiderman boots really happened too, just not on Easter :) My kids give me so much inspiration. . . .  
> * For those new to this series, I started it before season 7, so it is canon divergent from pretty much after 6A.  
> * Is Black "Sales" a cheesy pun? Yes. Yes it is. :)

              Killian blamed Henry for this. And, in light of that, he would have his revenge. Revenge that would poetically fit the crime. Like abandoning Henry in a Chuck E Cheese while three birthday parties were being held. Or, he might offer for Henry to come along on their next trip to the amusement park. Then conveniently disappear. Whatever it was, the revenge would include lots of noise, insane crowds, and irritable children.

              Emma thought if he wanted to blame someone, it should be Evan. “You know,” she clarified, “ _your_ son? The one who’s like your mini-me? Who can’t remember his damn shoes?”

              Oi. Shoes. It was a constant battle in the Jones household. It didn’t matter how many times he and Emma said it, their kids still wouldn’t have shoes on their feet when it was time to go somewhere. Then it was a scramble to _find_ shoes, which were never where they were supposed to be. Emma even bought a shoe cubby at Ikea for the mud room, but still shoes were left everywhere. Like under the kitchen table, in the back yard, next to the tub in the bathroom, or any of a dozen other odd places.

              But Evan, their nine year old, was the absolute worst of the three because the lad never seemed to realize his lack of footwear until they had actually driven to their destination. The only thing that saved the boy from going barefoot all over Storybrooke was that Evan was also notorious for taking his shoes off in the van, then running inside without them. Therefore, there always seemed to be an assortment of shoes in the Jones mini-van, which came in handy in a pinch. Although this did lead to some odd fashion statements like Evan’s infamous ensemble of his Easter Sunday best paired with Spiderman rain boots.

              But despite Evan’s . . . shoe issues, Killian argued that they never would have been in the wrong place at the absolute wrong time if it hadn’t been for Henry. It could all be traced back to the Charming’s 4th of July picnic at the farm. That was when Henry suddenly realized that he was the only one in their clan who had been snow skiing. (A trip he had taken with friends during his days at NYU.) Henry decided everyone needed to experience a ski trip, and had set about to plan a family vacation to a ski resort in Vermont. He got an amazing deal for Thanksgiving weekend, renting out a huge cabin at the resort for the entire family to share: he and his wife Grace and their baby girl, his grandparents and young Uncle Neal, Regina, his Aunt Zelena and cousin Robin, and – of course – the family Jones.

              Hence why Emma Swan Jones was driving their black mini-van down the interstate towards Vermont on Thanksgiving Day. After two hours on the road, Emma pulled over into a Burger King for lunch. That’s when everything started to go downhill.

              “Uh, Dad,” Evan’s voice came sheepishly from the back of the van – an area they had dubbed _The Hive of Scum and Villainy_. You practically needed a hazmat suit to crawl back there, it was so disgusting.

              “Yes, lad?” Killian muttered as he unbuckled four-year-old Ian’s car seat.

              “I . . . uh, don’t have any shoes.”

              “Seriously kid?” Emma groaned, one hand on her hip and the other clutching six-year-old Briar Rose’s hand.

              “Yeah, I sort of forgot them,” Evan mumbled, ducking his head.

              Killian and Emma both let out exasperated sighs remembering the dozen or so times they had yelled, “Put your shoes on!” before leaving the house.

              “What about your snow boots?” Emma asked.

              “Snow boots?” Evan squeaked.

              Killian massaged his forehead wearily. Emma yanked their son’s suitcase out of the back of the van, miscellaneous items tumbling to the pavement.

              “No snow boots either,” she confirmed as she wrestled the Star Wars luggage back into the disorganized mess.

              “I’m hungry!” Ian whined.

              “Here’s what we’ll do,” Killian announced decisively, the Captain in him taking over, “we’ll eat, and then we’ll head over to that shopping center and buy Evan some shoes.”

              “You can’t be serious!” Emma protested. “Killian, it’s Black Friday!”

              Killian furrowed his brow in confusion, “It isn’t Friday, Swan, it’s Thursday.”

              Emma shrugged, “It’s been pushed back. Now all the sales start on Thanksgiving Day.”

              Killian arched a brow, “Then why the bloody hell is it still called Black _Friday_?”

              “I don’t know,” Emma said with a wave of her hand, “eventually they’ll just call it Black _Week_.”

              “How delightfully morbid.”

                             *********************************************

              Killian had carried Evan across the disgusting pavement that was the Burger King parking lot so they could all eat. Killian was thankful that his son was slight for his age despite having the appetite of Anton the giant.

              After eating, they drove over to the shopping center behind the restaurant where Killian had seen a store called Shoe Carnival.

              “It shouldn’t be too bad if it’s called a carnival,” Killian remarked.

              Emma snorted. “Yeah right. Do you have any idea why I’ve never gone shopping on Black Friday?”

              “That’s easy. You hate to shop.”

              “True,” she conceded, “but I’ve also just never understood the frenzy. Are the deals really that good? Good enough to stand in line for hours and possibly get into a fist fight over a Tickle-Me Elmo?”

              “What’s an Elmo and why would I want to tickle it?”

              Emma laughed as she turned off the ignition, then her face went stoic as she turned to her husband and squeezed his arm. “Just be careful out there, okay, pirate?”

              “You’re not coming?” Killian asked, embarrassed when his voice hitched up an octave.

              “Nope,” she smirked as she settled against the headrest with her arms crossed, “you’re on your own.”

              Killian groaned as he unbuckled his seatbelt. For some reason, she seemed to blame Evan’s footwear problems on _his_ genetic makeup. Well, so be it. He had faced Kraken, giants, and dragons. He had stood firm upon the deck of his ship as tattered black sails loomed on the horizon. Surely this would be nothing. He opened the sliding door of the van and gestured for Evan to come with him. It only took the lad five minutes to extricate himself from toys, coloring books, and DVD player wires. He rested the boy against his hip and carried him once again across the parking lot.

              The sight that greeted them upon stepping over the store’s threshold looked nothing like a carnival. He assumed that the shoes would have been organized by gender and size upon the shelves, and maybe they once had, but all he could currently see were masses of people thronging around mountains of shoe boxes. Some lay on their sides, half open with shoe laces dangling out of them like the innards of a deposed beast. Some had been flung to the floor, landing upside down. Frantic women leaned over tables full of shoes, tossing the ones they didn’t want heedlessly aside. Killian looked down into his son’s face. The lad’s brow was furrowed in a way that he was sure mirrored his own. He was going to have Evan try on the shoes to make sure they fit, but that no longer seemed like an option.

              “What’s your shoe size, lad?”

              “3.”

              “Good.”

              It took Killian a bit of searching, but in quicker order than he would have thought possible, he had a pair of sneakers and a pair of snow boots. The trickiest part had been ensuring that the box contained both a right and a left, but here they finally were, victorious. They then stood in line for another half hour, which resulted in Evan melting to the floor in a whining heap.

              “We’ve been here _forever_.”

              Killian yanked slightly on his son’s arm. “You’re too old to be rolling on the floor, son, get up.”

              Evan obeyed with a huff, crossing his arms angrily across his chest and scowling.

              “Would you like to hear another story about my days as a slave boy?”

              Evan’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Please, Dad, not that again! I won’t whine again, I promise!”

              Killian nodded in satisfaction as he stepped up, finally, to the counter. The woman rang up the shoes, then announced in a fatigued voice, “That will be ninety five dollars and thirty-seven cents.”

              “Ninety-five dollars!” Killian cried out, and the salesgirl gave him a withering glare. “I thought all of these insane people were here for a sale!”

              That comment had several shoppers glaring at him as well, but Killian could care less. Why were people practically fighting over these shoes? Were they made of solid gold?

              “The sneakers were on sale,” the girl explained, in a tired, bored voice, “but the boots were full price at $49.99:”

              Killian clenched his jaw. “Then forget it,” he bit out. He took Evan by the hand and wove his way out of the line, ignoring the angry protests from those claiming he had wasted everyone’s time.

              The cool November air felt delicious on his face after the stuffiness of the store. Killian took a deep breath, then slowly expelled it.

              “Well, where are the shoes?” a voice asked to his left. Killian turned to find Emma sitting on a bench, their younger two running around her in circles of nervous energy.

              “Highway robbery, Swan,” Killian explained, gesturing with his thumb back at the Shoe Carnival – insipid name, in his opinion. “I think I saw a Walmart in this shopping center.”

              Killian strode with purpose in the direction of the discount store, and Emma leapt from the bench to hurry after him. “Killian, you have _got_ to be kidding. You call that place _Hellmart_. Remember the last time we took the kids there?”

              Killian turned to face her, snatching Ian from the edge of the curb by sheer reflex. “It is worth braving the bowels of hell to save fifty dollars on shoes. Especially on shoes we don’t even need.”

              Emma stared into his face for a long moment, then pressed her lips together in a firm line as she gave a brief nod. “Okay then. Let’s do this.” She marched over to a cart dangling off the side of the curb and maneuvered it back onto the sidewalk. “We better grab this while we can. Carts will be hard to come by.”

              Killian arched his brow. “How much worse is this going to be than back to school shopping?”

              “Killian,” she said, deadly serious, “this is going to make school shopping look like a vacation. Would you like me to give you a brief You Tube education on Walmart Black Friday insanity?”

              Emma’s intensity had apparently had an effect on the kids. They stood around the cart stoically, warily eying him. Killian puffed out his chest and threw back his shoulders.

              “Not necessary, Swan, we are the Jones family. The best crew I’ve ever had the privilege of leading. If we get separated in there, never forget the family motto: we always find each other. You are strong, resourceful, and quick-witted. I have taught you all to follow good form, but when we get in there, things are going to be grim. We may have to fight dirty. We’ll give our enemies no quarter. We’ll take what we please, and we’ll live by our own rules! For that is the best form of all! Are you with me?”

              He saw the corner of Emma’s lips quirk up, but she managed not to laugh. The two little ones who had scrambled into the cart, stood up ramrod straight and saluted him.

              “Aye, aye, Captain!” they crowed.

              Evan, meanwhile, rolled his eyes at his father. “Can we get cookies?”

              Emma and Killian both snapped, “No!”

                            ********************************************************

              In retrospect, they should have entered the store on the other side. As it were, they entered on the grocery side, and the meat department was directly to their left. A huge display proclaimed in bright yellow a two for one deal on pre-cooked turkeys. Absolute pandemonium encircled the display in a three yard radius. Emma maneuvered their cart as carefully and quickly as she could around it. Just when it looked like they had made their way past unscathed, a woman who had been wrestling someone for a turkey lost her balance and went falling backwards towards Killian. He caught her before she hit the floor.

              “Are you okay, m’lady?” he asked with concern as he righted her. His hand reached for her arm which clutched two turkeys, noticing a bruise welling up on her elbow.

              It was his fatal error.

              The woman, thinking he was making a move for her turkeys, yelled like a banshee. The next thing Killian knew, the woman he had just rescued from a possible concussion was swinging her fist at his face. There was a sharp crack as her fist connected with his right eye, and Killian went stumbling backwards. Emma shouted as she raced to his side. By then, the woman and her turkeys were long gone.

              Killian grimaced as Emma gently pulled away the hand that cupped his eye. Through his other, he saw her wince. “Oooh, that’s gonna be a shiner for sure, babe.”

              “I am _sooo_ sorry, sir,” an employee in a bright yellow vest apologized as he rushed forward. He handed Killian a pack of frozen peas. “Those are on the house, and can I offer you a $20 gift card?”

              Killian placed the frozen vegetables to his eye with his prosthetic and scowled at the man. Wordlessly, he snatched the little blue piece of plastic out of the man’s hands. The employee scurried off nervously.

              “Killian,” Emma groaned, tugging on his arm. He turned to find their cart empty; no children in sight. Killian’s one good eye scanned the store, and a sparkling sign adorned with glittering candy canes caught his eye. It said, “Toyland.”

              “No!” Emma protested clutching fistfuls of hair, “No, no, no!”

              “Well,” Killian sighed wearily, “let’s grab the cart and go get them.” But when he turned to grab the handle of their cart, his hand met empty air.

              Their cart was halfway down the next aisle, filled with turkeys, being pushed by the very same woman who had just given Killian a black eye.

                             **************************************************

              Emma skidded to a halt at the first aisle of the toy section. For the holiday season, it had been expanded to double its normal size.

              “Okay,” Emma said, in her sheriff’s voice, “Evan will be in the Lego aisle.”

              “I’m not worried as much about him, love. Divide and conquer?”

              Emma nodded firmly, “Right. You go to the Disney princess aisle. I’ll take Paw Patrol.”

              Killian couldn’t help grinning as they both raced off. They did always make quite the team, after all. He ran down the pink bedazzled aisle, grabbing Briar Rose and pulling her along, completely ignoring her protests. They found Evan as expected on the Lego aisle, but Emma and Ian were nowhere to be seen. Killian was just about to panic, when his cell phone began to ring. He yanked it out and sighed in relief when he heard his wife’s voice. She was gasping out her words, like she was running.

              “Ian had to pee,” she explained the minute he picked up. She then spoke to their four year old instead of Killian. “Don’t you dare pee on me, kid.” Killian bit back a chuckle. She must have been carrying him. No easy feat, since their youngest was built like his Grandpa Charming – solid and broad. Emma’s next words were directed at the crowds. “Outta my way people,” she barked, “I’ve gotta kid who has to go _now_. Meet me in shoes, Hook.”

              Then she hung up. She was clearly frazzled, as she rarely called him Hook anymore, especially outside of Storybrooke. He barked for Evan to follow him, and tugged on Briar Rose’s hand. His daughter then melted into a heap on the floor.

              “I’m sooo ti-ud,” she lisped. Their little girl had a speech delay, and it was always worse when she was fatigued. She still took naps at six years old. “Ca-wee me, Daddy?”

              Killian scooped her up and dashed down the main aisle of the store, scanning the signage for the shoe department. His daughter was light – she was only in the fifteenth percentile for weight – but her long legs dangled awkwardly as he ran.

              “Keep up, son,” he commanded Evan, who for once obeyed without arguing or whining.

              Briar Rose began sliding down off his hip as he ran, and his black eye was throbbing. Killian spotted a woman pushing a cart with nothing inside but a Keurig coffee maker. He skidded to a stop next to her. He shifted Briar Rose to his other arm so he could fish the gift card out of his pocket with his good hand.

              “I’ll pay you for the cart,” he offered.

              The woman eyed him, then the two kids, then the gift card. She sighed deeply as she lifted the Keurig out of her cart. “Take it,” she told him, “and keep the card.”

              “Thank you, _thank you_ ,” Killian gushed, as he deposited Briar Rose inside the basket.

              “Merry Christmas,” the woman told him with a smile.

              As he raced off, pushing the cart, he exulted that some people still possessed holiday cheer. They reached the shoe section with no further drama to find Emma and Ian already there. Footwear didn’t seem to be a popular gift item, at least not Walmart footwear, so the section was blessedly empty of shoppers. Emma deposited a pair of sneakers into the cart as he approached. Killian eyed the display of shoes and huffed.

              “What’s this $9.99 and $4.99 nonsense?” Prices in the Enchanted Forest were way more straightforward: five gold pieces, three pence, a farthing.

              “It’s to make it seem cheaper, babe,” Emma explained as she tossed a pair of size three snow boots for $9.99 into the cart.

              “Are people that daft? It’s a measly penny!”

              Emma just chuckled and brushed a kiss to his cheek. They headed to the self-checkout, which they assumed would be the fastest with only two items to purchase, only to find the line snaking down into the aisles. Another employee in a yellow vest – donning a Santa hat to presumably appear more festive – directed them to the express check out.

              “Your wait time in self-checkout is averaging 45 minutes,” he explained, “while wait time in the express line is 30.”

              Killian released a deep sigh. “Do you still have free cookies in the bakery?”

              He needed to give his wife no explanation. Emma took the shoes out of their cart and got in line as Killian wearily steered the cart towards the bakery. The children, all now residing inside the cart, cheered in victory.

              As he walked away, Emma called after him.

              “Give the bakery no quarter, Captain!”

              If they ever made it to Vermont, Henry was _so_ going to pay for this.

**Author's Note:**

> Coming up next will be that American Girl Christmas fic to finish this series. So be on the lookout!


End file.
